


ready to comply

by andnowforyaya



Series: monsta x drabbles [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Winter Soldier AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: Hoseok wakes up to find Kihyun missing from his side.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [braocean (brahurricane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahurricane/gifts).



> Bear with me okay so the background here is that Hoseok is Cap and Kihyun is the Soldier and Hoseok has convinced Kihyun to stay with him to recover and eek out some sort of existence together like they used to before the War and they’ve moved to Paia, Maui (Hawaii) and they opened a repair shop because they both like working with their hands and they don’t need too much money and they have a little bungalow and a hammock and sometimes Hoseok wakes up to Kihyun gone but he just goes to the north shore and surfs until the sun is up high in the sky and when he goes home Kihyun is always there waiting for him with lunch and an apology.

A breeze filters in through the open door, and Hoseok wakes to the smell of tobacco burning closeby, the side of the bed Kihyun occupies already cold. He scratches at his bare chest and rises from the bed, following the smell of smoke and purposefully putting weight on the floorboard that creaks as he walks as though to announce his presence.

The door groans on its hinges as he opens it wider, greeted by the image of Kihyun’s back as he leans against the railing of their back porch, looking out to the sea, his soft flannel bottoms hanging low on his hips.

“Hey,” Hoseok says softly, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. He treads forward carefully like he would towards a wild animal. There are nights when Kihyun just needs time, comfort, and silence, and then there are nights when Kihyun needs to fight, to hurt. Hoseok can give him both, though he prefers the former.

Kihyun’s back is a mess of scars, a map of what’s been done to him, though nothing is so horrific as the knot and tangle of marred flesh at Kihyun’s right shoulder, where muscle gives way to silver metal. His arm glints in the moonlight, deadly and dangerous, the red star of North Korea emblazoned where his bicep should be. Hoseok touches his fingers to the small of Kihyun’s back, holding his breath when Kihyun gasps, and the cigarette between his fingers in his left hand falls to the ground.

“Damnit, Hoseok,” Kihyun mutters, his fingers shaking. Hoseok takes Kihyun's fingers in his hand, makes a fist over Kihyun’s, and presses himself against the other man’s back.

“Those will kill you,” Hoseok says.

“They won’t,” Kihyun says. “And you know it.”

Hoseok hums, settling closer, willing Kihyun to relax. He does, eventually, slowly. His fingers stop shaking in Hoseok’s hand. “What’s wrong?” he asks, kissing the shell of Kihyun’s ear.

When they pulled Hoseok out of the ice he’d had to catch up on half a century of history. His memories were fully intact of the time before, of the war, of Kihyun, like everything had happened yesterday. Some days he still can’t believe he’d been trapped in the ice for so long, that this isn’t some long, episodic dream.

When the North invaded, they’d enlisted together like they’d done everything together, and watched out for each other the best they could. But it hadn't been enough. Hoseok still tastes bile in his mouth whenever he thinks about the day he let Kihyun fall behind in North Korean territory.

His fault. Everything that happened to Kihyun was -- is -- his fault.

Kihyun doesn’t remember much about North Korea, and Hoseok can’t decide if this is a blessing or a curse. What Kihyun remembers most is pain, burning and mind-numbing. He describes it sometimes to Hoseok, when flashes come back to him: strapped to a cold metal table, his entire right side numb, his new arm seared to his open nerves; a chair and rubber in his mouth and electricity coursing through him -- _“They called it recalibration -- like I was a computer that needed to be restarted. Blank slate.”_ \-- and the deep black darkness that claimed him; ice. He remembers ice, and a cell, and blood on his hands. 

Kihyun presses back against him subtly. Hoseok thinks Kihyun isn’t even aware he’s doing it. So many things have changed about Kihyun, and yet so many things have stayed the same. It’s comfort he wants, tonight.

“There was a little girl,” Kihyun whispers, his voice hoarse but flat. “My target was a businessman. He'd traded South Korean secrets for money, but the North didn't want any loose ends.” He swallows, his hand starting to tremble in Hoseok’s again. “I had him in my crosshairs. The girl came out of nowhere, and I pulled the trigger.”

Hoseok holds him tighter. “That wasn’t you,” he says against the back of Kihyun’s neck, but Kihyun shakes his head.

“You keep saying that. Like I’m two different people: the Kihyun you knew and the Soldier. But we’re the same.”

“No,” Hoseok says, and it comes out rough and raw, like he’s been screaming for hours. “That’s not true. They made--”

“--me do it?” Kihyun finishes for him. Scoffs. Hoseok can sense the wry grin forming on Kihyun’s face without needing to see it. “I had my orders, Captain,” Kihyun continues softly. “And I followed them.”

“You were _tortured_ ,” Hoseok says.

Sometimes Hoseok wakes up in the middle of the night screaming for fallen friends, fighting ghosts, off-balance from the ringing in his ears, but Kihyun doesn’t wake up from his nightmares. Something keeps him there in another consciousness, reliving his horrors, the bed shaking with his trembling. He doesn’t wake until Hoseok touches him, and then there’s a hand against Hoseok’s throat, and Kihyun’s shock, and guilt, the dark light in his eyes, and he is sick for hours after. And they stumble back to bed and Hoseok holds him and reminds where he is, who he’s with, that he’s safe.

“Sometimes I think,” Kihyun says softly, “that if it had been you -- you wouldn’t have been so weak.”

“Kihyun,” Hoseok sighs. Kihyun turns in his arms. His eyes are dark and full of secrets, things he’ll never tell Hoseok that happened to him, that he was made to do. Because he thinks Hoseok shouldn’t hear them, that Hoseok is too _good_. Hoseok drops his forehead to Kihyun’s, closing his eyes and holding the smaller man tighter against his body. In the distance, the waves lap steadily at the shore. “I don’t know what I would have done,” he admits, “but I know you did the best you could. It’s not your fault.”

He can feel Kihyun breaking down, starting with the hitch in his breath. His arms coming up to wind around Hoseok’s neck, the metal cold against skin. Kihyun cries quietly as if he’s afraid someone will overhear, and Hoseok kisses him over his eyelids, patient.

“Let’s go back inside,” Hoseok suggests.

Kihyun follows when he pulls gently. That is something Hoseok had to relearn -- how to be gentle. It comes easy to him when Kihyun is involved, it seems. Funny, since Kihyun might be the only person in the world who could match him in strength, now. They climb back into bed, and Hoseok holds Kihyun close, Kihyun’s metal arm almost too tight around Hoseok’s waist. “I’m glad I found you again, Ki,” Hoseok whispers against Kihyun’s lips, kissing him.

  
.

**Author's Note:**

> this was sitting in my drafts so i decided to finish it quickly and be done with it orz
> 
> also this is b's fault. (i love you)
> 
> comments are appreciated. come find me on @andnowforyaya on twitter :)


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